Lyrics Breezy - DRU DOWN, Luniz

Breezy

Na, na, na, na, pimping ain’t easy
(That's right it ain’t easy)
Big pimping ain’t easy
(Nigga is you breezy?)
I come in strapped with twin stacks of G’s like Siamese
(WHO-HA!)
Then I Busta Rhyme to make your motherfucking spine bleed
Stomp in the 90's like Yo-Yo, fo' sho' yo' nigga smoke the greenery bomb leaves
Walk like zombies under the palm trees
Fuck Armani
No Versace, me and my posse be sloppy drunk off the 'Rassi
Pissing in the lobby
And I be on some new improved big shit
Making moves till I come through draped in jewels like Slick Rick
How is it that Gold Mouth, AKA Yuk, but you can call me Yak
For the way I blaze up sacks back to back
And knock the cool off you conjack, Lee Mannie
Ain’t he that nigga balling outta control like Lee Haney
I’m on swole
Detainee on parole, catching felonies
Selling D in the O.A.K.L.A.N.D.
inhaling thee chron chron
One stop beyond the bomb shit, bionic
B.I.
step aside and Let Me Ride like The Chronic
Now who is these bitches trying to smoke some weed with my crew?
And my nigga Dru
You never knew I hung with players with waves like Amadeus
Just sporting my A’s hat, fuck The Raiders
Captain Save Us, handcuff your hoes right now
If you a player, nigga put your mack hand down
Fo' sho'
I say the funky rhymes to make the hoes get naked in the Lexus
No mo' than fo' minutes and some seconds
Now I’m live and in flesh in 3D
Better yet, cassette or CD, broadcasting from the S. C
Strapped, ya best be, if ya plan to test me
Fall asleep and death is definitely your destiny
I slides like ice and rolls like dice
On these fraudulent, overpriced, female parasites
I bubbles like Moet and spit my game rapid fire like a tec
To make all these bitches panties sweat
Shaking the rookies
Distributing my cavi cookies
And stabbing nothing but top notch imported pussy
They think they speed balling but they really speed falling
Going shopping with the profits they supposed to recop with
And faulty niggas worst habit is rushing to touch and get it
When they know they can’t afford to have it
I’m kicking bitches outta my stable cause they ain’t able
To match what I’m bringing to the table
And broke hoes is a no no fo' sho' bro
Players are bankrupt from letting bitches free load
These boutique niggas don’t want no mail
They’d rather floss but when they go broke
They run around like chickens with their heads cut off
The Feds on his back, repo the Ac'
Escrow the black, plus hit 'em with the RICO Act
Imagine that, niggas hustling backwards now-a-days
But I ain’t moving unless I’m getting fucked or getting paid